


Bunking with an Angel

by SupernaturalSlayer



Series: Let Me Count The Ways [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Wing Grooming, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28280955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalSlayer/pseuds/SupernaturalSlayer
Summary: Castiel is exhausted enough to try sleeping in the first bed he falls into, which happens to be Dean's.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Let Me Count The Ways [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066598
Comments: 12
Kudos: 166





	Bunking with an Angel

Castiel touched down softly and glanced around the dingy motel room. Dean and Sam must still be at the coroner's office— their room was empty. He relaxed and ruffled his wings, leaving a light shower of raindrops on the carpet near the bathroom. As a soldier of heaven, where most of his existence had been spent in the company of others, any time alone was rare and welcome. Although angels did not require sleep he felt strangely tired, every fiber of his vessel right down to his grace aching with the weight of his exhaustion. His eyes burned.

"Just until they get back…" he murmured, and fell clumsily onto the double bed furthest from the door, face first. Castiel burrowed into the pillow and inhaled deeply. This was Dean’s bed, clear from the smell alone. His scent was so unique, a mixture of leather and cinnamon, whiskey and gunpowder, and something elusive and musky. It surrounded Castiel and he drank it in, leaving him warm and sleepy. Rain pounded steadily against the window, the heater whirred softly in the background, and the angel's eyes drifted shut.

He woke suddenly in darkness to a whispered argument the brothers were having in the tiny kitchenette.

"I'm not sleeping in the chair!" Sam said indignantly.

"Shhh! You're gonna wake Cas!" Dean peered around the corner towards the sleeping angel to make sure he hadn't moved. 

Castiel held very still, feigning sleep, and just listened. He was so comfortable. Unless they deliberately woke him and asked him to move, he wasn't going to. It might have been a little selfish, but in all his life, vessel or not, he had never slept before. This was a new experience, and Dean was always trying to convince him to partake in more of those. He deserved one night, Castiel thought, just one, to rest. And then he would help them with their hunt.

He stretched his wings into a more relaxed position and settled himself deeper into the mattress just before he heard Sam say "…share the bed with him, he's out cold."

"I can't just bunk with an angel, Sammy!" Dean sounded panicked. 

Castiel felt a sinking in his chest, like an anchor thrown into the ocean.

Sam scoffed. "It's just Cas. Besides, all he does is stare at you, I don’t think he’ll mind."

The sinking was joined by a familiar pounding, a pounding that took up residence inside Castiel’s chest at Dean’s casual touches and long looks, or when Dean called him by the nickname that even his brothers and sisters had adopted. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and nestled his face deeper into the pillow, trying to give himself over again to the weariness that persuaded him this was a good idea in the first place. 

"That's exactly why I shouldn't,” Dean said gruffly, forgetting to keep his voice down.

Sam raised his eyebrows and tilted his head towards the angel. "You stare too, and we both know it. Listen, I'm going to bed. If you want to sleep in the chair, that's up to you." 

Sam kicked off his shoes and shucked his jeans to the floor before climbing into his bed. He stretched luxuriantly under the covers, spread out like a starfish. 

"Goodnight."

Dean grumbled as he poured two fingers of whiskey into a flimsy plastic cup. He warred with himself as he knocked it back. 

It would be warm and comfortable in the bed next to Cas. But he was willing to bet just being that close would be enough to keep him on edge, awake, all night. And if he could relax enough to get to sleep, who knew what kind of position he might wake up in. 

He poured himself another drink, pulled off his boots and jeans.

Sam was already snoring lightly, and he’d made it clear that he wouldn’t be sharing  _ his  _ bed. Thinking about it wouldn't make it any more inviting, or the stiff muscles he was sure to wake up with any less painful, so Dean plopped himself into the chair with a sigh. 

It's not like they normally stayed at the local Hilton, but this motel was even more run down than usual. As if to prove it, the bottom of the chair dropped to the floor and Dean slid through the frame of the seat, sloshing what remained of the whiskey onto his shirt.

"Sonovabitch!" he hissed, remembering at the last second to be quiet.

He glanced over to make sure he hadn't woken them, and then swept the room with his eyes. This reeked of Gabriel's Trickster crap, but Dean saw no one. He wriggled out of the broken chair and picked himself up before tugging the damp shirt off and flinging it towards his discarded jeans. No way in hell was he sleeping on that carpet.

He dug around in his duffel bag for a clean shirt and pulled it on, stalling. He could do this. It wasn’t like there were any other options. Dean took a deep breath and lifted the blanket, climbing into the bed slowly so he wouldn’t wake Cas. 

Dean felt something brush his face, something soft and cool, and he heard a sharp intake of breath beside him. Suddenly there was a pitch black thing hovering right in front of his face, and he gasped and pulled his gun from under the mattress in one swift movement.

"Dean, it's just me." Castiel breathed.

"Holy shit Cas, are those your wings?" Dean's eyes were wide in the darkness, but he lowered the gun. All he could make out was something that seemed to suck the light from the space above the bed, something huge. Castiel placed a hand very gently on Dean's shoulder.

"You touched them, so now you can see them. I'm sorry Dean, I should have put them away but I was—Oh!" Castiel cut off with another gasp, this time louder. 

Dean had placed his hand flat on the inner curve of Castiel's right wing, but at Cas’s reaction Dean snatched his hand back like he’d been burned.

"Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry man, I don't know what I was thinking." Dean stammered. Any cool he might have had left was completely gone now.

Castiel shook his head, giving Dean a small, shy smile. "No apology is necessary. It felt…nice. No one has ever touched my wings except to groom them, and it’s been a long time."

Dean fixed him with a serious look and reached out again slowly, giving Cas time to tell him to stop. Their gazes stayed locked together. Even in the dark Cas’s eyes were incredibly blue, and seemed to glow a little with his grace. They were always electric, ethereal, but this time there was something new in them, an expression that Dean hadn’t seen before. As Dean touched the crest of his right wing again and stroked across it lightly, he saw Castiel's pupils dilate until they were blown wide, black nearly drowning out the blue Dean had unexpectedly grown to love.

"Please Dean…don't stop." Castiel whispered, breathless. 

The pounding in his chest built to an almost painful pace when Dean touched him like this. None of the many things he had experienced measured up. He had never felt anything so good.

Dean brought his other hand up and carded through the thick, dark feathers gently, straightening the ones that were going the wrong direction, smoothing the ones that stuck up funny. 

Castiel relaxed more and more, melting into the mattress as the hunter worked carefully towards his shoulder blades. When Dean reached the nub of the joint where his right wing met the skin of his back, Castiel tensed and let out a shocked whimper. 

Dean slid a soothing hand down his spine until he relaxed again, before moving to the far tip of the left wing, continuing to comb through the feathers without comment. 

Castiel felt things he couldn't explain, couldn't find words for. His stomach felt like fireworks in a black sky. His wings—his whole back—tingled, not completely unlike the way he knew Jimmy’s foot did when it fell asleep. None of his thoughts made sense; all he could do was sink deeper, boneless and pliant underneath those rough hands that he never knew could be so gentle. 

Dean was so close to his left wing joint now that Castiel found himself tensing up again, wound tight in anticipation of the touch on that spot that sent lightning zinging down his spine, the tiniest whine escaping his firmly pressed lips. 

Dean moved as though in a dream, and he had no desire to wake up. Cas’s feathers were cool and silky, the bones beneath impossibly light. The little sound he made had the bottom dropping out of Dean’s stomach, and after a beat of hesitation he planted a soft kiss to the angel's neck just as he began massaging the joint in slow, gentle circles. A moan tore free from Castiel's throat, surprising them both.

In a whirl of limbs and feathers, Dean suddenly found himself pressed into the mattress underneath Cas, hands tangled in his hair, the clumsy slide of their lips making him gasp. How something could feel utterly new but so deeply familiar was beyond him. 

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's back to pull him closer, but tried to let Cas set the pace. He swallowed the soft sounds Cas made, a hand tangled in his feathers, the other cupping the back of the angel's neck and stroking down the side of his face. Cas ran his hands down Dean's chest and stomach as he moved his lips to Dean's neck, kissing and mouthing the skin there gently, rubbing a thumb over the jut of a hip bone. Dean murmured encouragement and fisted his hand tightly in Castiel's feathers, drawing out another moan from the angel. It was a feedback loop, each of them spurred on by the other’s pleasure, until Cas suddenly froze.

"Sam is awake," Castiel breathed into Dean's ear, a blush creeping across his cheeks, eyes bright.

"Yeah, I am,” Sam piped up, amused. “Look, I’m happy for you guys and it’s about time, but maybe give it a rest until tomorrow? When we can get separate rooms?”

Dean could feel his cheeks burning in the dark. “Yep, okay, goodnight.” he choked out, unable to manage anything else.

Cas rolled off of him reluctantly, and tucked his wings away. He didn't know what this meant, what he was supposed to do now. What Dean wanted, now that he had time to second-guess himself. He left some space between them and intended to settle onto his own pillow when Dean tugged him close again and wrapped an arm around his waist, their bodies flush. When Cas buried his face in Dean’s neck, Dean only held him tighter. 

Castiel huffed out a soft laugh, surprised that he was apparently okay not just with what had happened, but that his brother knew too.

As if he heard the angel's thoughts, Dean laughed quietly with him, stroking the ever-present stubble on his cheek. "Sam's right, this took way too damn long." 

Dean hooked a finger under Cas’s chin and tilted his face up until their lips met again in a chaste kiss that stretched into something tender and languid.

They kissed lazily for a few minutes, Castiel growing sleepy again. He felt so safe, so warm and happy, and he nuzzled into Dean’s chest as they drifted off. His last thought before sinking back into a dreamless sleep was that Dean was right about the joys of embracing new experiences. And Castiel had a lot of lost time to make up for. 

**Author's Note:**

> Another heavily edited repost, this time from late 2012.  
> I'm also on [tumblr](https://cas-loves-dean.tumblr.com/), for those of you still on the hell site (affectionate).


End file.
